


the last of the igasaki

by Catory



Series: swordpoint destinies [1]
Category: Samurai Sentai Shinkenger, 手裏剣戦隊ニンニンジャー | Shuriken Sentai Ninninger
Genre: Crossover Roleswap, Episode 1 Remix, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 01:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catory/pseuds/Catory
Summary: it's been ten years since fuuka has seen her brother takeru.(part of a ninnin/shinken roleswap project, because i can)





	the last of the igasaki

"What the _ heck? _" Igasaki Fuuka, youngest daughter of the Igasaki clan, drops her duffel bag in shock. "What happened to the dojo?!?"

The familiar home that she'd left almost ten years ago for America is in ruins. Fuuka absentmindedly picks up the signboard of the old Igasaki dojo, broken and discarded, off of the floor and brushes the ashes off it. She frowns, and rubs her fingers together. The ash is cold, and there's no smoke. But the soot hasn't clumped together from the rain, either. So whatever happened here, happened recently. Probably. Maybe?

"Mom never mentioned anything about this. Typical." She mutters under her breath.

A leaf crunches behind her, and she whirls around.

"Woah!" The person right behind her— how'd he get close without her noticing?— yelps and falls over. Fuuka takes a closer look. "…Nagi?"

Nagi, still dressed just like he did years ago (that is, enough yellow and clashing styles to drive Auntie to drink), blinks and smiles crookedly at her. "Fuuka! Man, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

It'd be polite to smile and make small talk. God knows she's gotten good at _ that, _after so long following her mother around to every socialite party in the city. But the dojo sign in Fuuka's hands is cold and covered in ash. Her home, where she'd lived so happily with Dad and her kind and clumsy and selfless big brother—

It's suddenly hard to breathe. She holds the sign up in one hand. "Nagi, what the hell happened here?" She's not going to be upset. She needs answers.

Nagi blinks. Looks at her, then at the piece of wood she's holding, then at the ruins behind her. "Holy shit, what happened to the dojo?!"

"_Easy _ questions deserve _ easy _ answers." A voice drifts down from a tree. "If the dojo burned down, then there's really only one person it could be and you know it, Fuuka."

Fuuka squints at the newest arrival. "…Okay, no." She finally says. "I'm too old to fall for that anymore! I know for a fact that you've been holed up in England for the past few years, Yakumo, so there's no way you have more actual facts about this than Nagi!"

Yakumo sputters a little bit, but he jumps off the tree branch he'd been standing on anyways. "Well, am I wrong? Takeru was already a bit of a pyromaniac, even when we were all kids. I'd assume that would have only gotten worse with time."

Nagi tilts his head thoughtfully. "Hm… The summons from Uncle just said it was an emergency, but if this is what he's talking about, then we're already much too late, aren't we? Anyways, I don't see why they wouldn't call the fire department instead."

"I _ just _ got back to school after the holidays, too." Yakumo grouses as he stomps his way over to where Fuuka and Nagi are standing. Right after he says that, he immediately disappears into a pitfall with a yelp.

Laughter rings out from right beside Fuuka. "As always, Yakumo, you never look beyond the surface." Kasumi, armed with both impeccable makeup and some mysterious mechanical something in her hands, emerges from where she'd been hidden from sight and she smiles. "My analysis indicates that the dojo burned down from a Nintality infused fire eight days ago, but the messages that we all apparently received were sent at least six days ago. The emergency it's talking about it obviously isn't Takeru setting the dojo on fire. Again."

Fuuka crosses her arms. "Well, how are we supposed to find out more then? Hold a séance and ask Gramps?"

And of course, because Fuuka has the worst luck in the world, this is when these crazy guys in blue with polearms choose to attack. She yelps in surprise and pulls out some of the shuriken that she always keeps on her, but that's a _ lot _ of opponents and she's not sure it'll be quite enough—

"Fuuka!"

She stumbles. What is WITH her family and being sneaky assholes? Oh, right, ninja. "Dad?! What—"

"Sorry, late, no time to talk take this—" He shoves a sword into her arms and just barely ducks out of the way of a polearm, and then Fuuka completely loses track of where he is in the heat of battle.

She knows she's not a bad fighter. Igasaki Sakurako wouldn't have allowed that, not with her pedigree. But all her experiences were in dojos or on stages and there's just something different, here, where her opponents really, actually, seriously, want her dead and there’s no retakes and the flashiness of her sword form counts for not much at all.

That being said, she can tell when someone joins in the battle and completely turns the tide. All she can see is flashes of red— fast, faster than she can keep track of— but Fuuka feels delight rise up in her throat anyways because she knows in her heart who this is already.

The battle is over before she even realizes it, and she looks for the newcomer and starts barreling his way. "Takeru! Big bro, why haven't you even sent me any mail, it's been… a… ges…"

His face is so cold. (She can hardly recognize him.)

"Big bro?" Fuuka says, uncertainly stumbling to a halt, just beyond arm's reach.

Igasaki Takeru looks in her direction, face blank. (Takeru used to wear his heart on his sleeve.) "Why are you here?"

"Hah?" Kasumi's the one that speaks up, in that way that doesn't sound offended but really really seriously means she's super offended, which is great because there's suddenly too many words in Fuuka's heart for her to say out loud. Like _ what _ and _ huh _ and _ what did you do to Takeru _ because sure, it might have been years since they last met but Fuuka remembers her brother and this just doesn't line up. It just doesn't!

What happened to Fuuka's brother?

Takeru's eyes narrow. Fuuka inadvertently takes a step back. He takes a quick, dismissive glance at her, before facing Kasumi. "None of you should be here. You're interrupting my training. So go back."

"Uwah, scary." Nagi says, not very scared at all. He brushes some dirt off his brightly decorated hat. "Looks like Take-chan woke up cranky today."

"Is everyone alright? Ah, sorry for not telling you in advance, Takeru," Fuuka's dad finally jogs up. He looks a lot older than Fuuka remembers. More stress lines, less hair, a few twigs stuck in his sweater, you know? "Dad mentioned it a while ago, and I thought it would be a nice surprise, you know, the Youkai are getting tougher to fight and we don't know how long it'll take until Kibaoni Gengetsu will resurrect—"

"He _ won't._" Takeru cuts Fuuka's dad off. "Because I'll stop him. With or without dead weight dragging me down."

"Kibaoni Gengetsu?" Fuuka asks, but she's drowned out by Yakumo's offended "DEAD WEIGHT?!?"

He marches right up to an indifferent Takeru. "Listen up, _ cousin, _ I don't care if you've trained your bloody arse off these past few years, it's not as if we've been sitting around twiddling our thumbs either— I'd like to see _ you _ try to learn magic with—"

This time, it's the gun on Takeru's belt that interrupts Yakumo— god, everything is happening so fast, there's not time for Fuuka to just sit down and _ think— _and Takeru frowns.

"Youkai," Takeru says. "No time to chit chat. Don't follow me. Bye."

"Hold on—" Fuuka starts. But she's half a second too late. He's already gone in a cloud of smoke.

There's half a beat of dead silence in the forest clearing. The wind rustles the dead leaves on the ground. It's Nagi that speaks up first. "Soooo… we're definitely gonna go after Take-chan, yea?"

Kasumi turns to Fuuka's dad. "Uncle," she smiles sweetly as she holds out her hand. "Shuriken. Ichibantou. Now."

* * *

There's a lot more fighting after that— against what seems to Fuuka like never ending waves of guys in blue and also some sort of weasel… chainsaw… youkai thing? It's chaos, and it only gets worse after Weasel Dude somehow grows to like fifty feet tall and Dad tosses her another shuriken— and why’s her Ninja Ally a dog, anyways? Yakumo got a dragon! It’s a mess. (It’s the most fun she’s had in years.)

Anyways. 

After the battle, Takeru doesn’t leave immediately. He hovers there, warily, shifting from foot to foot as if he doesn’t quite know whether to fight or flee. (Later, Fuuka reflects and realizes that they’re already all facing him as a united front. As if he were an enemy, perhaps.)

"I didn't need the help." Takeru says, even though he wasn’t even the one to strike the final blow on the Youkai. Yakumo was. "There only needs to be one Last Ninja in the Igasaki clan, and it'll be me."

"That's going a lil far there, Take-nii." Kasumi smiles as she taps her cheek with one perfectly manicured finger. "Now, I _ do _ remember you being something of a prodigy, but really, the rest of us are no slouches either. Who are you to tell us what we can or can't be, anyways?"

Takeru glares at her, like actually glares, sharp as a drawn sword. But Kasumi's never been one to be easily intimidated, and Yakumo has always tried to follow her lead, and it's seriously hard to get under Nagi's skin anyways, and...

And Fuuka…

Fuuka's hands are shaking, she absently notices. Blood is rushing in her ears. She needs to _ move, _ she thinks, so she does. She walks right up to Takeru and grabs his ninja uniform by the collar and yanks him down to her eye level. "Don't you _ dare _ look down on me, Takeru.” She hisses, anger boiling over. “I'm gonna surpass you! And I’m gonna become the Last Ninja!"

Takeru's eyes widen in visible surprise, but Fuuka's the only person close enough to see a ghost of fear behind that before he shoves her away. He sweep an eye over her and everyone standing behind her, all furious and annoyed in their own ways. "You're all going to stay, aren't you."

It's a question flattened into a statement. (His voice sounds oddly bleak, but Fuuka’s still mad enough that she doesn't give enough of a damn to worry. Not til much, much later.)

He turns and starts walking away. "Don't expect me to go easy on you."

"Good!" She yells after him. "I didn't want you to anyways! I'll defeat you fair and square!"

* * *

It's the quiet hours before dawn, and even Kasumi, a habitual night owl, is too tired from training to pull one of her typical all-nighters. The cicadas have long since stopped chirping, and the world itself seems to hold its breath.

Igasaki Yoshitaka, long dead but not quite gone, makes a cup of tea by moonlight.

The wind rustles through the leaves. There is a conspicuous absence of footsteps behind him.

"Grandfather. You shouldn't have told Father to call them back."

Yoshitaka suppresses a fond smile. There he is. Takeru's just like his father, after all. They only flaw either of them ever had was a cripplingly soft heart, and it's just too bad that Yoshitaka can't afford to indulge his grandson like he did his son. "Who is the master here, and who is the student? You think too highly of yourself, Takeru."

Silence. Yoshitaka savors the smell of the tea, the warmth of the ceramic, the hesitation in the air. Then a soft thump on the wooden boards breaks the silence, and he turns his head to see Takeru kneeling in supplication, head bowed.

"_Please,_" his grandson breathes out, just on the edge of begging. "Send them back. I'm the only one you need. I'll work harder, I'll double my training, just don't make me fight them."

His voice cracks a little, at the end. Yoshitaka hardens his heart. It takes him a few minutes. He doesn't _ want _ to do this, he tells himself. But the fate of the world might depend on it.

"…You'll learn faster with the competition," Yoshitaka says. His lips twist in something that couldn't be called kind. "It's up to you whether or not you're fast enough to obtain the title of Last Ninja before one of them finds out. Although… doubling your training is a good idea. I suggest you start at once."

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, Takeru is gone like he had never been there in the first place.

Ever the diligent student. Hah. Yoshitaka tosses out his tea. It's already lost all the warmth it once had.

— 

**Author's Note:**

> the difference in ninnin and shinken pivots on the reds and this is my thesis part one, part two to come... sometime soon.  
> to dial up the Drama in ninnin just focus a lot more on like... the family stuff. all the stuff with fuuka and igasaki mom in girls vs boys, kasumi's unwillingness to fail, its all stuff that would get more focus on in this series i imagine.  
> also the big secret that takeru has to keep here isnt [SHINKEN SPOILERS] but rather the whole thing about how the Last Ninja thing is VERY LITERAL and you're gonna have to do at least one entire murder to get that title and of course takeru would be the type of elder sibling that would try to take on that burden by himself and not tell anyone else about it  
> much more focus on growing together as a family, healthy competition, etc
> 
> stay tuned for shiba takaharu, sometime this... uh... year. hopefully.


End file.
